


Affliction Shall Advance the Flight in Me

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wing Kink, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:59:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was from the Sassy Santa Exchange 2013 for Caitlin (breathforall), who prompted “Sam asks to see Castiel’s wings and begins to touch which happens to lead to first time.” This is probably a lot more angsty than she wanted, but I promise it has a happy ending.</p><p>Set anywhere between 7.18 and 8.22. (In retrospect, this could also take place after everything in season 9 is resolved, but that involves a lot of explaining, none of which happens in this fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affliction Shall Advance the Flight in Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from George Herbert's "Easter Wings."

                Sam wanted to be able to say that it started recently, but that wasn’t true. So he said that it started back when he met Castiel and kept himself awake most nights with celestial questions. That wasn’t entirely true either, but it was close. In any case, the point wasn’t when or how his intense curiosity about all things angelic began, it was that it stuck around. Most days, when he had some time to himself, he dug around for any books on angel lore he could find. Most of them contained much of the same information, but every now and then, he stumbled across one generations old, with accurate and original information. It was rare occasions like those that Sam holed up somewhere for days without emerging, immersed in the literature and determined to finish it before they set off again.

                Now was one such time. He had lost track of the amount of time he had spent with the huge tome in his lap, but it must have been a while because when Cas popped in to check on him, the first thing he said was, “Dean is concerned.”

                It took Sam a moment to realise that Cas was actually in the room and speaking to him. When he finally looked up from the pages, rather than repeating himself, Cas asked, “What are you reading?”

                Sam rubbed his eyes as they were hit head-on with light streaming from the window, groaning in exhaustion. “A book,” he replied automatically, stretching his arms high above his head and pretending not to notice Cas’s eyes flick to where his shirt lifted briefly. “About angels,” he added.

                “You’re more than welcome to ask me for any information you require.”

                Sam shifted in his seat and coughed awkwardly, too embarrassed to admit that, after years of having to research his way through huge hundred-year-old books and countless cultish websites, it had never occurred to him to simply _ask_ , even after he and Cas befriended each other.

                “I’m sure you have more important things to do than answer my questions,” he covered. “And anyway, I like the research. Sometimes it answers questions I wouldn’t think to ask.”

                “Such as?”

                In his haste to prove his point – and such a deep level of tiredness that he would never admit to – he almost dropped the book as he gestured to the page it was open to. Lucky for him Cas was quick on his feet.

                “Like this chapter,” he pointed out in his best Not Embarrassed impression. “It talks about wings. Like, I know you have them because you’ve mentioned it before, but it never even occurred to me that humans can’t see them.”

                “That’s not true,” Cas corrected immediately, pulling up a chair to sit beside Sam. “You would normally be able to see our wings. We eventually learned to hide them when humans in general became more cynical. Over time, to show a non-angelic creature one’s wings became extremely significant.”

                “How so?”

                Sam noticed the way Cas eyed him, as if he was debating whether it would be worse to explain or worse not to, but he allowed his angel to make that decision without his influence. If Cas didn’t want him to know, there had to be a reason for it.

                After a moment, Cas finally continued. “Besides other angels, we only show our wings to the people who mean the most to us in the world. Someone who we trust unconditionally and would do anything to keep them safe.”

                That wasn’t the explanation Sam was expecting at all, and he found himself feeling a little hot around the collar – quite literally. “You mean, kind of like someone you love?”

                “Yes,” Cas answered with minimal hesitation. “Something like that.”

                Sam swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry. He wanted more than anything in that moment to ask to see Cas’s wings, but he was so, so terrified of rejection. No matter how often Cas said he loved him, there was a large part of him that didn’t want to believe it.

That was the part that won out this time. Sam was busy trying to casually move on from the conversation and didn’t notice Cas’s relieved sigh.

                Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, it wasn’t long before a majority of Sam’s waking thoughts were centred on Cas’s wings. He constantly beat himself up for being too afraid to ask to see them. After all, he vividly remembered how Dean described his first meeting with Castiel, and if Cas trusted Dean that much, surely he would trust Sam as well, especially considering they had been some semblance of a couple for the past few years.

                That said, he was still terrified of getting a negative response from Cas. There were so many reasons that he might not trust him, and he was still working on atoning for unatonable mistakes. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had lost all of Cas’s trust in him – or even if he had never gained it in the first place. So it took him a while to work up the nerve to bring up the topic of wings again.

                It was a night when Dean had gone out under the pretence of hustling pool, but Sam was almost certain it was because his brother needed to drink himself silly. He didn’t call him on it, he never did, but Sam sat alone in the motel room and silently disapproved of his brother’s actions, occupying himself with skimming the Gideon’s Bible for any mentions of angels. It must have been the hundredth time he had done so, but he had angels on the mind and no transportation to the nearest library. And anyway, Cas was bound to show up soon. He usually did when Dean was out, as they weren’t too terribly open with him about their relationship. He knew they were together, and that was it.

                So Sam wasn’t the least surprised when he heard the tell-tale flutter that announced Cas’ appearance; he was almost expecting it.

                “Hey, Cas,” he greeted, standing to welcome the angel with a chaste kiss.

                “Sam,” he replied as usual. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

                “Don’t be. It hasn’t been that long since I’ve seen you.”

                “It has been too long. I’ve been sensing some . . . ” Cas paused as if looking for the right words, resting his hand on the back of Sam’s neck and squeezing as if in consolation. “I’ve been sensing much anxiety from you recently.”

                Cas, like all angels, could read the minds of lesser creatures, humans especially through prayer. He and Sam had already discussed this issue, and Cas had insisted that while he never intentionally listened in on anyone’s thoughts, sometimes particularly strong ones reached him, and there was no possible way to block a prayer directed to him. This became truer as the emotional bond between Sam and him grew. The fact that Cas had been sensing Sam’s anxiety was not surprising.

                “Yeah, well,” Sam huffed in a vain attempt to make light of his discomfort. “It’s nothing.”

                “It’s not nothing,” Cas insisted. “You are very tense. Would you like to talk about what is bothering you?”

                Here Sam was, being offered a golden opportunity, practically served up to him on a silver platter, and he was still terrified. Even knowing that he would just beat himself up more if he let the chance slip away, he was nearly trembling, tearing his lip apart with his teeth, _scared_ plain and simple. But the look that Cas was giving him was so soft, so concerned, that he couldn’t let himself shrug him off again.

                “Cas,” he began softly, unsure whether he felt like he was addressing a spooked animal or if he _was_ the spooked animal. “Would you . . . ? I mean – Could I, maybe, see your wings?”

                There wasn’t even a second’s hesitation:  Cas tensed as if he had been expecting his response. Not just expecting, but dreading, if his pained expression was anything to go by.

                “Sam,” Cas started in a tone that plainly let Sam know he was about to be rejected. “I can’t.”

                Sam’s heart sank like a stone while a large part of his mind was screaming at him – _I told you this would happen why didn’t you listen you could have lived your entire life without ever knowing what his answer would be and you’d be happier for it . . ._

                But he didn’t say anything like that at all. Instead, he muttered, “O-oh. Right, of course,” and tried to take a step back.

                Cas’s hand on his neck stopped him. “Please, do not think that it is because I don’t trust you. That is not the case at all.”

                “Hey, it’s fine. I get it,” Sam replied, the epitome of casualty and understanding as he successfully pulled away and made his way back to the bed. The worst part was that he really did understand why Cas didn’t trust him. He wouldn’t trust him either if he were in Cas’s place.

                “No, you don’t.” Cas was insistent, following Sam to the bed and sitting beside him when he pretended to pick up where he left off in the Bible, furiously fighting against the stinging behind his eyes because he of all people knew he had no right to be offended.

                Cas placed his hands on either side of Sam’s face, forcing him to face him. Any other time, Sam would have melted at the touch, but now he was avoiding eye contact at all costs.

                “Sam, please, listen.” When Sam shut his eyes rather than meeting his, Cas smashed their lips together in a kiss that was desperate more than loving. “I love you so much. But I can’t show you my wings. I just _can’t_.”

                Sam wished he could say he believed him. He wished Cas could give him a legitimate reason besides _I just can’t_. He wished there was something he could blame this on besides himself, but no matter how he looked at it, none of it translated into Cas’s fault. Sam only had himself to blame, but what else was new?

                He was saved from having to respond by the sound of the Impala pulling into the parking lot in front of their room. Obviously hustling hadn’t gone well. Sam clenched his eyes shut harder, knowing that not being able to see what was in front of him wouldn’t keep it from happening but finding comfort in the illusion anyway.

                “Dean’s back,” he replied softly, not trusting his voice enough to speak any louder. “You should probably go.”

                Sam heard Cas sigh, felt the puff of warm air on his face, but when he finally opened his eyes, Cas had gone.

It was ages before Sam saw Cas again. He tried not to think that the angel was avoiding him, but once the thought was in his head, it never left. Sam supposed it was only natural. After all, he did put them both in a rather awkward situation, which they parted on a bad note. Not to say he was even sure where they stood after that particular encounter, but he would have liked some notice that their relationship was deteriorating so they could at least discuss it.

                It surprised Sam how much he actually depended on Cas’s companionship, now that he might lose it. He missed the informed conversations they would have as if casually talking over drinks, or how they stood up for each other because they were both shit at standing up for themselves. But he could handle life without those experiences, as he had before he met Cas.

                What he couldn’t handle were the nightmares and panic attacks that the Cage had left him with. When he was first re-souled, it was terrible – he could hardly leave Bobby’s without something or another triggering him, and it was even worse because he had no recollection as to _why_ simple things put him into a panic. But Cas had stayed with him, the single most comforting force during that time, not a little bit due to the touch of Grace on his soul. It wasn’t a week before he was able to function almost normally again, but every so often there was still the sight of a wendigo going up in flames, or a motel room in New England with a broken heater, or, perhaps most pathetically, Sam getting himself tangled in the sheets, that set off another wave of absolute panic that only Cas could help him ride out.

                (Not to say that Dean was entirely useless; for all his eagerness to help, he was just a little lost when it came to things like this.)

                But this time, when there was a barbeque right behind the motel and the smell of burning meat made the nightmares flare up again, the only thing Sam wanted was to be wrapped in Cas’s arms. Although under the circumstances, that was the last thing he expected.

                Well, he _thought_ it was the last thing he expected, although waking up more-or-less gently, surrounded by the softest covering he had ever felt, was certainly at the bottom of the list.

                He sighed and turned his face into the material, barely awake enough to realise that he wasn’t still dreaming. Whatever it was tickled, and he huffed to avoid sneezing, only then beginning to wonder what it was and cracking his eyes enough to check.

                Feathers. Giant, pitch black feathers softer than any down he had ever felt, lighter than clouds, strangely chill against his heated skin. His eyes, wide with wonder, travelled up from the feathers to their apparent source, -- somewhere hidden behind a wide expanse of bare torso – and then up to the face just inches from his own. Cas’s eyes opened slowly, meeting Sam’s and shining so startlingly blue they almost glowed.

                Puzzle pieces snapped into place in Sam’s mind, and he found it difficult to breathe. These were Cas’s _wings_ – two pairs, four total, massive appendages that Cas carried everywhere that facilitated his flight and, now, provided Sam comfort he desperately needed. They were black as the deepest, darkest void that Sam had ever been terrified of falling into, and yet they reflected every colour of the rainbow when caught in the light. They were slightly translucent, although it was only noticeable where the silhouette of the moon shone through. Sam had never seen a more beautiful sight, and the fact that Cas was now trusting him with it held more significance than Sam could handle. He couldn’t be blamed for the tears that welled up in his eyes.

                “Oh my God, Cas,” he breathed.

                “I’m sorry I couldn’t wake you sooner,” Cas whispered. “It was bad tonight, and I didn’t want to risk it.”

                Sam heard him, but his mind was elsewhere. He lifted his hand as if to touch the feathers above him but hovered just inches away instead. “ _Oh my God_ ,” he gasped again. “They’re . . . Cas, they’re – “

                “They’re black as sin.” The contempt in Cas’s voice brought Sam’s attention back to the angel’s face, which was contorted into an expression of intense disgust, although his eyes were closed, his whole demeanour shouted _SHAME_. “It was my final punishment for choosing you over Heaven.” His eyes snapped up to Sam’s, and he felt his heart seize in his chest at the pure self-depreciation there. “That is why I didn’t want to show you before. I am tainted, and I . . . I was cowardly and hid the evidence. None of this was never any fault of yours, and I never should have let you believe that. I’m so sorry.”

                And if that didn’t make Sam feel like the scum of the earth, nothing would. He felt so selfish, even though he knew, logically, that his assumption had been well-founded with what information he had at the time. But he wasn’t thinking very logically now, wrapped in a cocoon of feathers and Grace with a hurt Castiel.

                “I’m sorry,” he choked. “I’m so sorry, Cas – “

                “Don’t be,” Cas responded with a dry smirk. “I know how you think. I should have reacted more appropriately.”

                Sam wanted more than anything to press his point, but an argument was not what either of them needed at the moment, so instead, he curled himself into his angel’s bare chest and reached up to trace the bone structure of his wings, transitioning smoothly from his shoulder blades.

                “Black as night,” he muttered into skin.

                “What?”

                “You said black as sin. They’re not. They’re black as night, somewhere far north, like Norway or Sweden, where it’s cold and snowing for half the year. That kind of black.”

                “Starless.”

                “Only because the Northern lights are too bright.”

                “Cold enough to kill.”

                “ _Cas_ ,” he tugged gently on a handful of feathers in admonishment. “Stop trying to change my mind. They’re amazing. Thank you so much for letting me see. I really don’t – “

                “You deserve it,” Cas insisted. Sam stopped fighting it when the wings wrapped tighter around him.

                They laid tangled together for an indeterminable amount of time, Sam’s nightmare still too fresh in his mind to allow sleep and Cas not requiring any, but they were both perfectly content to just be together. Sam allowed himself to relax into the blanket of feathers as Cas loosened under his soothing touch on his wings, his muscles lax and his breathing deep and even in some semblance of sleep.

                Sam let his hands travel closer to the base of Cas’s wings and felt the angel stiffen immediately.

                “Sam,” he grumbled, “I would strongly suggest you stop – “

                His fingers brushed against a patch of skin, slightly raised and stiff, like a bee sting, but slick with something like oil that burned Sam’s fingers. The closest sensation he could think of to compare it to was of VapoRub on his skin, but much more intense and, if he were honest with himself, pleasurable. Cas cut himself off with a breathy gasp, the cause of which was glaringly obvious against Sam’s thigh.

                “Cas?”

                “That is my, uh, uropygial gland,” he explained roughly. “Touching it is the closest a human can come to touching an angel’s Grace, so it is a very, uh, very _erotic_ experience.”

                Oh. _Oh_. That was probably the last explanation Sam had anticipated. He wanted to be thrilled about this new knowledge, but instead he was feeling rather giddy because he was more or less _touching Cas’s Grace_ , that most crucial, central part of him. Any other time, Sam would have felt guilty for doing so without expressly asking Cas for permission, but it _had_ been an accident and was a little too late to take back.

                “Do you want me to, uh . . . ?” he started, unable to finish the suggestion as he struggled to find a use for his free hand. As far as first times went, Sam’s hadn’t been too terribly awkward, as his partners had been a little more experienced than him each step of the way. But this was different. This was a line he had never crossed with Cas before, simply because they didn’t need to. The time that Cas would spend with Sam was just a tiny, insignificant portion of the entirety of the angel’s life, and there was no need for physical intimacy when Sam knew that he was he first and only person Cas would ever fall for.

                But it wasn’t because they didn’t _want_ to.

                “That is not necessary.”

                “I know, but that’s not what I asked. Do you want to?”

                Cas worried his lip between his teeth, the look in his eyes half heated lust and half confusion and concern. “I don’t . . . I am unsure.”

                “Okay,” Sam replied calmly, immediately removing his hand from Cas’s oil glands to a presumably much safer place buried in the feathers. “Then we won’t.”

                “No,” Cas amended quickly, lifting his hand and hovering it over Sam’s skin as if trying to decide where to put it and ultimately pushing his hair out of his face. “I want to, but I’ve never. I wouldn’t know how to – “

                “But you want to?” Sam pressed. He absolutely refused to make even the tiniest mistake with Cas on this matter.

                “Yes. Very much.”

                “Then we’ll take this slowly, just like everything else.”

                After getting the go-ahead nod from Cas, Sam finally brought his free hand to the back of his angel’s head, leading him forward into an innocent kiss, more a simple touching of lips. Cas’s wings were twitching almost imperceptibly under his touch as the kiss slowly, slowly deepened. No teeth or invading tongues, just lips pulling at each other with mild suction, kitten licks barely breaching the seams. Sam was trying so, so hard to be gentle, make this more than just a lesson in sex. Cas fell for him, had died for him, was willing to renounce everything angelic _for him_ in order to stand by his side in love and war alike. Sam’s first and only priority was ensuring that the only thing Cas took from this experience was pleasure. There was no more room for negativity, not here.

                “Nervous?” he asked when he felt Cas’s wings twitching again.

                “I’m not – oh,” Cas interrupted himself, in awe at just how good Sam’s lips on his throat felt. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to behave in this situation.”

                “Don’t worry about it. Let me take care of it.”

                “But what about you?”

                “One thing at a time.” Sam, slowly so as not to startle Cas, moved his hand from his head, moving downward past the angel’s neck, collarbone, sternum, lingering slightly at his pleasure trail before circling the button of his slacks with a finger. “We’re going slowly, remember?”

                “B-but – “ Cas started, his voice stuttering when Sam finally opened the front of his pants to knead his erection through his briefs.

                “ _Shh_ ,” Sam whispered against the shell of the angel’s ear. “You trust me, right?”

                It seemed like a dumb question to be asking, surrounded as he was by the physical _proof_ that Cas trusted him more than anyone else, and the fact that Cas spared a moment amidst his pleasure to look at him like he was an idiot – _I’m positive we’ve already had this discussion, Sam_ – further supported that thought.

                “Then let me handle it,” Sam continued without receiving a response.

                He shifted slightly, regrettably untangling his other hand from Cas’s feathers, in order to push his slacks down and off.

                “How do you want to . . . ?”He asked, returning his hand to palm Cas’s cock. Because despite his initial game plan, this was about what Cas wanted.

                The way he groaned softly was encouraging. “This is good. This is very good. I understand this is one of the most fundamental aspects of sex. Using one’s hands,” he explained when Sam raised a questioning eyebrow.

                “I guess,” Sam acquiesced. “It’s the first things most people learn, anyway.” He pulled off the briefs and took Cas’s cock in hand with one swift, graceful movement, effectively cutting off any replies. Although the skin-on-skin contact in and of itself was probably more than enough.

                Sam kept it simple, with long, slow strokes to the base and back. There would be time to find out what Cas liked some other time; if he wanted to learn, Sam was going to teach him.

                Although he probably wasn’t retaining most of the information:  His head was thrown back against the pillows; eyelids fluttering, struggling to stay open. His lips parted on a sigh and stayed open. This went from a light-hearted, educational handjob to obscene, blasphemous sex in two-point-five, and Sam was having trouble keeping up, his breathing heavy from the effort.

                Sam kept his eyes firmly fixed on Cas’s face, smearing precome around the head of Cas’s cock with his thumb and watching as the angel squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to smother a moan.

                Sam didn’t expect it to last very long and wasn’t disappointed when Cas’s heated groans turned into desperate whimpers, his hips pumping forward of their own accord.

                “ _Sam_.” Cas whined, and Sam swore he would go another round in the Cage if it meant that he could make Cas say his name like that again.

                “Sam, close your eyes.”

                “W-what?”

                Cas’s hand flew out to cover Sam’s eyes just as he gave a final, painful-sounding grunt and the cool feathers beneath them flared hot enough to sear Sam’s skin raw.

                “Are you alright?” Cas asked breathlessly when the heat subsided, removing his hand tentatively so Sam could see that the wings had disappeared and Cas had spilled over his hand. He quickly released his grip and wiped his hand on the sheets between them. There would be time for a proper clean up later.

                “Yeah, I’m fine,” he responded, although his entire right side felt sensitive, and he knew burns well enough to feel one. “What was that?”

                “I uh . . . “ If Sam didn’t think he knew better, he would have thought that Cas was embarrassed. “I lost control of my Grace when I . . . climaxed. It was best to hide my wings again before they cause serious damage. I apologise for the burns,” he continued, touching the red patches of skin gingerly. “I’m afraid I can’t heal them, but they will fade with time.”

                Sam immediately thought of the handprint on Dean’s shoulder and how it was completely gone within a month, maybe two. He couldn’t help but be glad for the marks Cas left on him despite himself, even if they were less than permanent.

                “Do not compare yourself to Dean,” Cas frowned. “The mark I left on him was a mistake.”

                “So was the one just now.”

                “ _Stop_.” He sat up and forced Sam onto his back in order to straddle his legs. “This is not about that. And now is not the time for such thoughts. Anyway, I believe you said I wasn’t retaining anything you were teaching me.”

                “I don’t think I said that.”

                “Maybe you thought it. Regardless, I think I should show you what I learned.”

                “You don’t have to,” Sam muttered, batting eager hands away from the waistband of his pants.

                Cas huffed irritably. “Sam. Let me do this. It’s fair.”

                Sam fully expected for Cas to just go at it, but he was looking at him expectantly, fingers lingering at his waistband, obviously waiting for explicit permission.

                “Yeah, okay.” He had barely finished speaking before his bedclothes had been mojoed away and Cas was cradling Sam’s straining erection in his hand like it was a precious thing. Sam hissed at the sudden contact; although there was still none of the much-needed pressure, finally receiving attention felt almost as sweet.

                “Cas,” Sam groaned. “I don’t want to rush you, but – “

                “You have been waiting long enough.”

                “No, it’s not – “

                Cas immediately gripped his cock with a firmness he was not expecting and set a quick pace that he was even less prepared for. He groaned loudly, head thrown back against the pillow as Cas gave him more than he got, his hand sure as if he had years of experience instead of minutes.

                “You are very wet,” Cas observed matter-of-factly. For Sam, it was the equivalent of dirty talk, paired with the way Cas was using Sam’s precome to ease the friction had him moaning incoherently, eyes rolling. He wasn’t going to last long, and they both knew it.

                Sam gripped Cas’s shoulders just to have something to dig his fingers into, his toes curling and head tossed back as far as the pillow would let him, his entire body squirming under the tension he was begging for release from.

                An open-mouthed kiss to his throat and one wandering finger to his perineum pushed him over the edge, and then some. Sam keened high in his throat, thrashing under Cas’s weight with the force of his orgasm. Cas held him steady in his arms, too busy soothing him to mind the come messing them both.

                Eventually, Sam came down from his high, gasping for air and more than grateful to find himself surrounded by Cas once again, even if the wings were absent.

                “That’s cheating,” he smiled once his brain was more or less working again.

                Cas just chuckled and let Sam wrap his arms around him, burying their faces in each other’s shoulders. “It’s not my fault you were thinking so loudly. It makes it very easy for me to discover exactly what you like.”

                “Still cheating,” Sam slurred, fighting off sleep for just a while longer. “’Cause I can’t do that with you.”

                “We have plenty of time to figure that out together. In the morning, maybe. You should sleep.”

                Sam sighed contentedly and hugged Cas tighter, rolling them to their sides when his weight became a little too much to comfortably bear. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

                “Of course.”

                “Promise?” Unfortunately Cas had a history of disappearing before the morning, although not always by his own fault.

                “They will have to drag me away by my halo.”

                “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Sam smiled, only half joking. And then, as he felt himself slipping once again into sleep, he added, “I love you,” not joking at all.

                He was already mostly asleep when Castiel replied, and although he would wonder if he dreamt it come morning, he didn’t imagine the kiss to his temple or the whispered, “I love you too, Sam.”


End file.
